Chapter 7 - The Woman Who Disappeared
Eleanor Mercer had not died naturally.
At least, not when Julian believed she had.
Public records said Eleanor died after a long illness.
Julian had attended her funeral.
There had been a body.
But Daniel’s photograph was dated two years afterward.
Ruiz ordered the grave examined.
DNA confirmed the woman buried there was not Eleanor.
Julian’s entire understanding of his family began collapsing.
Grace read Daniel’s letter again.
Find the woman.
A handwritten number appeared beneath the photograph.
Not a telephone number.
Coordinates.
They led to a small town in Vermont.
Police located a cottage registered through another shell company.
An elderly woman lived there under the name Elaine Moore.
Julian went pale when he saw the surveillance photograph.
“My mother.”
Eleanor agreed to meet.
Julian walked into the cottage first.
Grace remained outside until he asked her to join them.
Eleanor was seventy-two.
Frail.
Alert.
Her first words to Grace were:
“You have Daniel’s eyes.”
Grace nearly cried.
Eleanor told them everything.
Nathan had always resented Julian.
Richard recognized it too late.
Nathan wanted control of Mercer Harbor, but Richard intended to divide ownership and place Julian in charge of operations.
Nathan staged his death before Richard could formally remove him from the company.
From hiding, he recruited Martin.
Then he discovered Eleanor knew.
She fled.
Richard arranged a false death to protect her.
Daniel helped.
“Why didn't she tell Julian?” Grace asked.
Eleanor answered herself.
“Because Nathan threatened him.”
Julian looked wounded.
“You let me mourn you.”
“I let you live.”
Silence followed.
Grace understood both sides.
Love could protect.
It could also wound terribly when protection required deception.
Eleanor possessed the missing part of Daniel’s evidence.
Nathan had manipulated Bellweather for more than a decade.
Victoria was only his newest instrument.
But Victoria had become ambitious enough to challenge him.
The wedding was Nathan’s opportunity to eliminate both Julian and Victoria while reclaiming access to Mercer Harbor.
Eleanor touched Julian’s hand.
“He doesn't want your money anymore.”
“What does he want?”
“Your name.”
Nathan wanted to return publicly after Julian’s death.
The lost Mercer heir.
The grieving brother.
The rightful successor.
The story would practically sell itself.
Grace thought of the wedding.
“He’ll come.”
Eleanor nodded.
“He won't be able to resist.”
The plan continued.
But now they knew what Nathan wanted.
The wedding would become a stage.
And narcissistic men often walked willingly onto stages built for them.
Three days remained.
Victoria returned to Mercer Hill under supervision.
Grace found her alone in the bridal suite.
Victoria looked into the same mirror that had hidden the camera.
“You hate me,” she said.
“I don't waste that much energy.”
Victoria laughed.
“I underestimated you.”
“Yes.”
“You could pretend to be gracious.”
“You tried to have me killed.”
“Fair.”
For the first time, Victoria sounded almost human.
Grace asked why she had joined Nathan.
Victoria’s answer was painfully simple.
Money.
Her family had lost everything.
Debt swallowed their remaining properties.
Nathan offered a solution.
Then leverage became blackmail.
Then blackmail became greed.
“At some point,” Grace said, “you stopped being trapped.”
Victoria looked at her reflection.
“Yes.”
That admission mattered.
Not legally.
Morally.
She had choices.
She made terrible ones.
Grace turned to leave.
Victoria stopped her.
“Nathan knows about the basement.”
Grace looked back.
“What basement?”
“Not the archive.”
Victoria’s expression changed.
“There’s another room.”
“Where?”
“I never found it. Martin did.”
“What’s inside?”
“Something Richard Mercer hid.”
That night, Julian searched architectural plans.
A section beneath the east wing made no sense.
Six feet of unaccounted space ran behind the foundation.
Grace found a concealed mechanism behind an old wine rack.
The wall shifted.
Cold air emerged.
Ruiz drew her weapon.
Julian turned on a flashlight.
Stone stairs descended.
At the bottom was a steel door.
317 had been scratched into it.
Grace looked at the brass key still hanging from her chain.
She inserted it.
The lock turned.
Inside was a room filled with boxes.
Richard Mercer’s private archive.
On the central table lay one envelope.
JULIAN.
He opened it.
Inside was a legal document.
Nathan Mercer had been formally disinherited.
And attached was a second document transferring controlling interest in Mercer Harbor upon Richard’s death.
Not to Julian.
Not to Nathan.
To a trust.
Julian read the trustee’s name.
Then slowly looked at Grace.
The trustee was Daniel Miller.
But Daniel had died before he could tell anyone.
Grace reached for the final page.
A handwritten note was clipped behind it.
May you like
Richard had written only six words.
If Daniel dies, the successor is...
